


A Kind of Magic

by Grondfic



Category: Dark Is Rising Sequence - Susan Cooper
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 17:47:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7693708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grondfic/pseuds/Grondfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It was some years since he’d felt this way; but he remembered instantly. An inner tug; a tweak at the sleeve of his soul; a nagging sensation like an incipient toothache.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Somewhere, in a small but definite manner, the Dark was active once again.</i>
</p><p>**** </p><p>Following his instinct, Will the Watchman finds himself at the Slade School graduation art exhibition - and a face from the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The action here takes place in autumn 1990. So Will is about 26 and Barney 22.

_It was some years since he’d felt this way; but he remembered instantly. An inner tug; a tweak at the sleeve of his soul; a nagging sensation like an incipient toothache._

_Somewhere, in a small but definite manner, the Dark was active once again._

* * * *

He rang through to the department office to cancel his last appointment of the day (a fresher floundering over course choices), and made his way out of the Institute. Crossing Woburn Square – following his uneasy instinct – he soon found himself at the main doors of the Courtauld Building which, if he remembered rightly, now housed the Postgrad section of the Slade School of Fine Art. Still following instinct, he ascended the shallow steps to the atrium.

Here, a handsome poster proclaimed – **Graduation Exhibition. Inaugural Reception. Main Galleries at 5.15. By Invitation Only**.

Shrugging ruefully, he followed the murmur of voices. At the doorway he halted, right hand extended in a splay-fingered gesture.

As the door-steward and all the guests froze, caught silent in time, he wandered quietly through the gallery, pausing to take a champagne-flute from a tray held by one of the motionless waitresses …….

* * * *

“…… exciting new directions! I really think, McIntyre, that the Nineties are going to be something quite special in the Arts!”

“Nonsense, Sewell! I see nothing here but cultural retroactivity! Even that rotting-potato-and-moonstone sculpture has been done before. And crossdressing went out with Velvet Goldmine. Not one of them has any Grounding these days, and …. Well, upon my soul! Dr Will Stanton, isn’t it? Quite a surprise! Not your usual stamping ground at all!”

Will smiled amiably, raising an unobtrusive finger to clear the hair from his eyes.

“Hello Peter! Well, it’s good to get out and look at someone else’s field once in a while. We all get somewhat blinkered within our own disciplines, don’t you agree?”

“Quite so!” snorted Peter, “One’s own students begin to appear quite amorphous after a while. Still … I’d think our latest _wunderkind_ might hold some interest for you …. Really rather 60s – psychedelic-retro; even some pre-Raphaelite influences. But very _Now_ for the fantasy-book-cover trade, I should think. Knows his Celtic and Norse symbols anyway ….”

“Oh really? I must go and take a look!” answered Will, his round face placid, “Where …?”

“In that side-gallery to the left! You’ll find the commercial vultures gathering already. That diamond heir who collects – he’s onto it already. I hope it doesn’t all go to the boy’s head!”

“I’ll find it! Thanks!”

Skirting the clumps of animated guests, fond parents, free-standing installations and the odd critic or prospective art patron, Will was more and more certain that this was what he’d been called here to see.

* * * *

The side-gallery was smaller and more crowded than the main one. All the paintings that covered its walls were, Will noted, clearly the work of a single artist. The style was distinctive, and unmistakable.

Will could see straight away why Peter had used the word “retro”. They were all recognisably Paintings – no installation-work or “art events” here! Oil, watercolour and acrylic were all represented; on canvas, board or paper. 

The overall impression was of dizzying vibrancy. Colours and shapes leapt from the walls in a profusion of flickering images: a seaman’s long-bearded face superimposed on an ancient map; a rangy red dog caught, leaping, in a whirling, transparent vortex; several harbour-scapes full of the movement of boats on water. 

The smaller works ushered the eye forward to the far wall. Will looked across and upwards; and gasped aloud.

From floor to ceiling a huge triptych rose, in a riot of variegated colour, and twisting movement. The three pieces were shaped and set strangely; two side-panels like gothic arches, supporting a huge circular canvas slung beneath the roof, gazing triumphantly down on the whole room like a gigantic cyclopean head.

Will moved nearer, inserting his stocky frame into the crowd - to left, to right; dodging groups and sliding through narrow gaps, until he stood right in front of the rope barrier at the feet of the paintings.

A small stand stood to one side, displaying the titles of the pieces:

 **Triptych: Spellcast**.  
Acrylic on board.

Lower-left: **Mana-Metamorphed** Lower-right: **Lir Leavened**  


Centre-top: **Reck Re-Verted**  


Barnabas Drew. 1988-90.

* * * *

The first thing that struck Will was that all three pieces were crammed to overflowing with images (just like the tapestries he’d first seen in the Hall-out-of-Time). Indeed, the _Mana_ and _Lir_ both had wire-thin extensions rising from the apex of each gothic arch, to connect with the lower rim of _Reck_. In each case, a hawthorn twig extended from the lower painting, over the frame, and (changing medium from painted images to artificial sprays of lobed leaves and may blossom), crawled up the extruding wire to the base of the disk. A full may-tree featured strongly in the round painting.

The flowering-thorn motif began faintly in the bottom-left of _Mana_ ; whispering through the crude swathes of hacked-on mustard-green, and snakey whorls. Bisecting these smartly, it framed (right at the apex) a tiny miniature, done in minute and exquisitely-inked chiaroscuro. Will could make out a craggy headland, from which a human figure – white haired, hawk-profiled – launched itself out onto the winds, its dark cloak trailing into powerful pinions.

By contrast, _Lir_ ’s may tree threw out a spray that arched over a luminous river of light. A small boat containing a group of figures sailed out from under the hawthorn and away from the viewer. Hovering over the prow, a ghostly face, its harsh lines slightly softened by an austere smile, gazed benignly over boat-occupants and viewer alike. Tiny letters in spiky gothic print enclosed the scene. Will craned to read – “ _We need that as much as the Sword, Barney!_ ”

The round disk of _Reck_ was totally covered in minutely-observed may-flowers; except for a tiny central circle. In this – again in chiaroscuro – a stark figure stood on a stony outcrop, gazing away from the observer into cloudy oblivion. The dark cape furled inwards on itself; and the face was raised to the wind, hawk-profile sharp-cut and unforgettable. The subject yearned forwards, away from the observer and into the wind which was blowing his long white hair backwards.

Longing and regret; and a struggle to hold on at all costs, suffused all the images.

* * * *

Standing below the threefold Spell, the Old One in Will Stanton felt its febrile pull. In his mind, a childish voice cried, over and over, “Gumerry, where have you _been_?”

_He’s sending a Summons for Merriman! Oh, Old One; Oldest of the Old - didn’t you SEE that leaving them with no conscious memory; but with heads-full of haunting dreams, could lead to trouble? And Barney, with his pull to romance, liminal psychic powers, and – above all – creativity ……_

.. and then, hot on that thought –

_What a gift for the Dark!_

* * * *

From behind Will, a harsh-accented voice spoke.

“Stunning! It’s the real-deal OK, Cherrikins!”

“I know, Geoff. Exciting, no? I’ve spoken to the boy’s supervisor, and he’s … amenable. He’ll introduce us if you’ll come …. “

Wills senses had begun fizzing as soon as these people drew near. Now, he followed them unobtrusively as the woman – dark hair smoothly coifed and dressed – led the man back through the small gallery.

“Pete - hey, Pete! This is my husband Geoff. He’s very keen to meet your latest young lion!”

“And here he is!” Pete McIntyre smiled sycophantically, “Barnabas Drew; one of the most shining talents it’s been my pleasure to nurture!”

Will slid quietly into the back of the group and watched Barney come forward, smiling with a nice blend of diffidence and pride.

“Barnabas! Loving your work! Pleased to meet you! I’m Geoff Mitothin – you may have heard of me!”

“I should rather think I have! How d’you do, sir. It’s an honour to meet you!”

 _He’s grown!_ Was Will’s first inane thought.

Of course he had! He’d be about … ooh … twenty-two by now. He combined all of Simon’s rangy height with a little of Jane’s delicacy of feature; and the bouncy enthusiasm that had always been his own. The pale gold hair that Will remembered had been grown long and cut into one of those stupid 1980s mullets, now thankfully growing out.

_He’s beautiful, magnetic; and a complete loose cannon!_


	2. Chapter 2

“ …. And my old man came from the Old Country, of course. Dealt in stones; and had a lot of truck with SA. Finally settled and married Ma. He always said it was for the handy diamond mine that granddad owned. Heugh! My wife – Cherry Withers-Mitothin! Definitely an Old-Country girl, my Cherrikins!”

“Please to meet you!” murmured Barney politely.

His initial excitement was dimming a little. These people were important, he knew. They were art-patrons with limitless resources; and they were interested in him – in the work of a no-name Slade student, who’d only just graduated.

So he should be over the moon; but something niggled annoyingly in the dusty cupboard at the back of his memory. There’d been someone …. Trewissick … a big yacht …

He looked away quickly from Geoff Mitothin’s intense blue gaze; and suddenly encountered another presence over the guy’s shoulder. At first he was aware only of deep, moon-faced reassurance; and then, as this resolved itself slowly into a slightly vacuous face framed in straight brown hair; a feeling of familiarity – like stumbling into his loved old nursery by mistake. And finally – a name!

“WILL! Will Stanton! The LAST person ….. how did you …? It’s been AGES!”

Adult discomfort temporarily forgotten, Barney beamed happily at this living reminder of those dimly-recalled childhood adventures in Cornwall and Wales.

“Hello, Barney! Long time, eh? You’ve been doing big things here, I see!”

“Very big indeed!” Geoff Mitothin interpolated smoothly before Barney could reply, “If that stunning triptych is anything to go by! Tell me, Barnabas – I CAN call you that, can’t I? – how ever did you dream up all that exquisite detail?”

Barney frowned slightly. That had been impolite! He glanced uneasily at Will, and surprised one of those blank looks that – he suddenly remembered – Will had been so good at, in Cornwall.

“Let’s all go and look!” he suggested, clutching wildly for inspiration in these treacherous social waters, “I’d like Will to see them as well; and of course, Peter can hover and tell me I’m an immature idealist, as usual!”

He gave everyone his most winning smile, and was gratified when Mitothin sniggered. Leading off down the gallery, he hoped they’d all now follow him. 

“You need to start here to get the perspective!” he announced at the doorway, “The overall shape is important. I had one of those woven Corn Ladies in mind when I set it up. The head is featureless and blind, but there’s such a VITALITY in those little figurines …. But – well – I was working in spring; and somehow it seemed appropriate to use green hawthorn for the main motif; and as I progressed, it kinda blossomed as it moved up the three parts of the figure!”

“So you painted all three parts simultaneously?” Will’s soft voice cut through the background din.

“Yes. A bit here and a bit there. Lots of pauses, whilst I did other stuff; but – somehow I always got back to this just in time for it to take a new, exciting turn. It’s been my friend, adversary and companion from my final BA year to the end of the MA!”

“These so-called ‘spells’?” Geoff Mitothin’s harsh Afrikaans accent cut through the murmurous din, “Where’d you get hold of them?”

Barney hesitated.

“I think – “ he ventured finally, “I must’ve read about them somewhere. I tried to research the names, of course; but there’s nothing - even in the folklore library - except the Irish story of the Children of Lir. Anyway, they … just seemed to fit …”

“And your little additions? _Mana Metamorphed_ etc? What about them?”

Barney grinned joyously. Everyone was asking all the right questions!

“Well that was just my way of putting in a personal element – making them mine, so to speak.”

“Am I right in thinking,” Will’s quiet, soothing voice came from just behind his left shoulder, “That _Reck Re-Verted_ has a sort of Heraldic element? I mean – it LOOKS like a shield-boss from this distance. And – well – _Vert_ , you know. One of the Heraldic Colours?”

Barney's grin became luminous.

“Clever old Will! Yes – well I expect you remember that I was always mad about King Arthur’s Knights. And … " he hesitated over revealing one of his private dreams, but went on anyway, confident that Will would understand, “I have this really vivid visual memory of some painter who consistently used the wrong kind of green. It’s made me a bit fanatical about how I use it, as a matter of fact. You can see what I mean in that bottom corner of _Mana_ there!”

“Fascinating!” said Cherry smoothly, and segued straight into – “Y’know, Barney, I think my Auntie Polly may have known you when you were very young! She remembered – when I told her whose work I was coming here to see – that she did the Floral Dance with you; and that you danced like a good’un! She was dressed up as a cat at the time – still quite mad, even now, of course!”

“She … “

Barney baulked; assailed suddenly by some rather bland memories of Trewissick Carnival. They seemed innocuous; but were somehow tinged with a faint nasty whiff – like three-day-old cat poo – that he somehow recognised as Something Bad.

“Well now, guys, you’ve all had plenty of time to catch-up. But right now, I’d like to Talk Turkey (as you Old Country people say). Now then, I’m willing to invest a fair old amount in you, young man! Starting right here with the triptych! I’ve got this little private gallery back near Jo’burg that’ll fit it just fine – there’s an end-wall that’s just the right size. Maybe I’ll take some of these smaller individual pieces too – what d’you say?”

“Erm …. "

The enormity of the offer left Barney speechless, and taken-aback. He hadn’t really expected anyone to enquire about the triptych. It was just too BIG; too RETRO for any saleroom. He’d looked on it more as a loss-leader than anything else.

And …

He faced the fact that he was just plain reluctant to sell it at all – let alone to Geoff Mitothin.

“C’mon, now! Haven’t got all night!”

“It would go really well in the foyer of the Institute where I work, now I come to think!” Will’s voice was full of dreamy speculation, “It would have to be a permanent loan, of course; we don’t have a huge amount of money. But you bet it would resonate with a lot of visiting archaeologists and anthropologists from around the world.”

Barney swivelled round to meet Will’s limpid gaze. He pantomimed non-comprehension; and Will kindly explained.

“The Woburn Institute, you know? Your great-uncle used to visit it a lot. He even endowed a Chair – the Lyon Chair of Anthro-Archaeology and Related Studies. I may be up for it myself one of these days; who knows!”

“Very … quaint!” said Geoff Mitothin irritably, “But I’m offering money upfront, a possible trip to SA, and a LOT of influence! What WE buy today, the art world invests in tomorrow; isn’t that so, Professor McIntyre?”

Barney felt as if he’d stepped all unknowing into a shallow rock-pool at low-tide; only to encounter a hidden trough beneath that catapulted him into a bottomless black depth. As the waters closed over his unwitting head, he heard a voice that sounded remarkably like Will Stanton’s.

“ _Watch for the Greenwitch!_ ” it said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The verse quoted here comes from _Taliesin_ by Anne Lister. 
> 
> 2\. the phrase "The rocks remain" is the title of a song by Horslips on _Book of Invasions: A Celtic Symphony_. 
> 
> 3\. The whales' song is part of _An Diran than Soulder_ by Gordon Bok (which deals with the death of a male selkie).

_I have a secret ….._

_Wild Fool …_

_My Mother, Tethys, is Mutable, yet Constant as the tides …_

_You may NOT command me …._

_Wild magic of Earth and Sea remains when the High and the Dark are swept Beyond by the Tides of Time …._

_Drake Is No Longer In His Hammock, children; but Tethys remains and speaks through Me …._

_I have been where the red kite flies_  
_And where the whales are dying_  
_I have seen though a dolphin’s eyes_  
_I don’t believe we’re trying!_

_The seas, the earth, the heavens, are dark with detritus_

_The High magic left Us to Our fate;_ _the light and darkness that is in humankind._

_The rocks remain, and_ _The unchanging, ever-changing ocean ….._

* * * * 

Will started forward as Barney began to collapse in slow motion at Geoff Mitothin’s feet. He managed to catch and hold the artist as the eyes in his head turned slowly inwards, leaving only white blanks showing between the lids. 

_**It's alright, Barney. I’ve got you. Hold hard onto me, and you’ll reach the shore again!**_

“Oh, dear!” Peter McIntyre’s distressed bleating almost distracted him, “He’s overdone it with the completion deadline! I should have stopped him, but … " 

“Wow. That act’s For Real!” Cherry’s bubbling voice added to the distraction, “We’d best leave you to it. Lucky there’s a hospital near, eh! Hey – listen! Here’s Geoff’s card. Ask Barnabas to contact us when he’s had a rest, yeah? We’ll be around another coupla days. He can get us at the Dorchester ….. " 

Will cut out the background noise firmly; and concentrated hard on Barney’s limp form. 

“We could get him to my office,” Peter was suggesting fretfully as the Mitothins hastily withdrew, “It doesn’t look good, him collapsing here … let me help! Sling his arm over my shoulder; then we can get him upright and … " 

Will gave him a glance of withering scorn, before effortlessly lifting the unconscious man into his arms, and rising slowly upright. 

“Lead the way!” he said shortly. 

****

The voices of whales were singing;

_The tide at thy head and feet,_  
_The wind about thy shoulder …_

Barney listened dreamily as he was washed hither and yon with all the flotsam and seaweed in the clear green atmosphere.

“IT’S ALRIGHT BARNEY, THEY’VE GONE! YOU CAN COME OUT NOW!”

The voice echoed, tinny and distorted, through an empty conch shell by his ear. If he could just move into the swift current that he could feel with the tips of his outstretched fingers, he’d be carried away from the din. He moved sluggishly as the voice continued in a more moderate tone –

“…in fact I think you SHOULD come back now; or you’ll go beyond my help into the Realm of Tethys … “

“ _That suits me just fine!_ ” he opened his mouth to say; only to find himself choked and gagging as water cascaded down his throat.

He started up, spluttering indignantly, rising through the harmonious green depths in to dry, discordant air.

His eyes popped open, and he found Will Stanton’s round face filling his entire field of vision. He blinked rapidly and perspective kicked-in (although that Nameless Faculty which guided his creative eye was showing him a gleaming Visual of a minutely-observed full-moon, with Will’s face superimposed in charcoal-grey ink, as a translucent, ghostly cloud-covering).

His lungs were taking over, now; relishing their function as he hawked to clear the excess water which Will had clearly been pouring down his throat.

His ticking brain, his vision, and his perspective were all shining and newly-washed by the Ocean, and the Wild Magic it contained. His senses found analogies also in the solid earth beneath him, and the air he was breathing. Wild Magic – now he was aware of it – was everywhere.

He stretched voluptuously; reaching for harmony in the interplay of his muscles on the comforting softness of whatever he was lying on. 

“You fainted!” Will was explaining, “Your tutor says you’ve been overdoing things, with the deadline.”

Barney’s mouth set mulishly. He wasn’t having any more of this anodyne stuff. Not from Will; who’d known him in those vaguely-remembered adventurous childhood days before that dreadful time when they’d returned from an expedition on a Welsh mountain to the awful news that Gumerry had met with a fatal accident in one of those noisy old cars he always favoured.

“That isn’t what you said before – when you called me back!” he said, making it sound offended.

The serenity of Will’s blank face was disturbed as he grimaced.

“Maybe not,” he said, “But it may still be true! HAVE you been overdoing it? Beta-blockers? Pro-Plus? Anything like that?”

“NO!” replied Barney indignantly, “And if you’re implying that what I just saw was nothing but a drug-induced Happy, you insult me! My dad and elder brother are both medics, y’know. At least you might trust me to know what I’m doing if I decide to .. go that road!”

“Sorry!” said Will unrepentantly, “But I had to check! And I thought maybe you wanted out on the Mitothins.”

Barney giggled, still deep into his dissociation.

“I’m gonna be so dead when I refuse them! They really do have all that influence. But I knew I couldn’t just hand over the triptych into their care. I hope you and your bosses are serious about that permanent loan, Will! What will they say when you spring it on them?”

“You leave that to me! Professor Lyon’s great-nephew – doing work that’s clearly influenced by him and indeed, that features vignettes of his profile … I don’t think they’ll refuse!”

Barney sat up cautiously, and looked around. He recognised his surroundings immediately.

“Oh – this is Peter’s office! He must’ve been desperate if he let you in here. Well now, can you see me home, Will? It’s not very far – just up Huntley Street by the bookshop.”

Will stared at him for a full ten seconds in that unnervingly inane way of his; and then smiled. Barney remembered Jane commenting on how much it had transformed Will’s face; and stored the memory of that smile to use in his moon-study.

“Come on, then! Can you get up? Where can I find your coat?”

Barney got cautiously to his feet from the dingy old casting-couch that Peter kept in his office; and found that any lingering dizziness dispelled itself as soon as he was upright. He was, in fact, brimful of energy.

Will, who had put out a steadying hand, withdrew it slowly from his upper arm. Barney had a sudden vivid body-memory of the strength in those fingers, from one time on a Welsh mountain when Will had restrained both himself and Simon. He couldn’t quite remember why.

It seemed odd to him, in any case, to be taller than Will, whose stocky frame had filled out and firmed in maturity; but not shot upwards, as he and Simon had done.

He felt fine, really; well enough in fact to go home alone. But now that he’d found Will Stanton again, he wasn’t inclined to just let him walk away. So he said nothing as they left the office.

He hoped he could inveigle Will in for coffee; maybe do some catching-up. He might even manage a few sketches whilst they talked; if Will didn’t mind. That Moon idea was taking a fierce hold on his Inner Visuals.

“My stuff’s in the locker room,” he told Will. He led the way, adding, “We can get out through here. It’ll be quicker than going back through the atrium.”

Thus it was that, a short time later, he found himself ushering Will into the lift to the top floor at the block, where his tiny flat had a wonderful morning-light aspect.


	4. Chapter 4

Will entered Barney’s home-space cautiously. He had a task to perform, he reminded himself sternly. If Barney was making such resonant cries through his art, then maybe he should be stopped. 

The Dark had clearly left offspring who – hopefully unwittingly – were prepared to use very human power-games to take any of the ancient forces they could sense.

If the Three from the Track had been left with their memories intact, Will thought ruefully, then maybe they would have been prepared for the kind of threat presented by Geoff and Cherry Mitothin that evening. But – since Merriman had left Will to deal with things as they arose in this brave new world of men, then it seemed he would have no choice.

Barney was showing him around the small flat, with evident pride.

“You have to see the studio in the morning light, because it’s a round room with windows everywhere. Turner would’ve loved it – the effects over the roof-tops and the University tower there, at dawn. And Whistler … although he’d maybe have wanted the Thames, which we can’t see from here, even on the roof … let’s go and make coffee! I need to clear my head!”

“Great!” said Will inattentively.

He was taking stock of a few of the piles of paintings stacked against easels, and every flat surface in the room; and the thumb-tacked sketches and studies on the walls.

“What's this?” he asked, pointing suddenly at one of the latter.

“Which? Oh, that! It’s a study for an acrylic – I use that a lot, y’know. I was trying for a texture, before I put any paint on the board. Wait a sec …. “ he rummaged amongst some small paintings stacked on a desk, “Here you go! I called it _Afanc_ , from an early Arthur-story from Wales. I was quite pleased with that sort of oily-iridescent effect on its neck there.”

“Painted from life, no doubt?” said Will wryly.

Barney laughed, then sobered.

“Well … not quite. I expect you’d understand this, Will, but … fact is, I have dreams – very vivid ones. Nightmares too, as you can see! A lot of this graduation exhibition came from that. Hang on a minute – there’s a companion-piece, where Arthur banishes it – yes, here it is! I called it - _You Are A Stupid Creature!_ That made me feel a LOT better once I’d finished it. I was quite pleased with the long loop of the neck – here, y’see? … and the straight lines of the Arthur-figure on the rock over there in contrast!”

“I see you’ve given him white hair, even though he looks young,” murmured Will.

“Yes. I used my brother-in-law as a model, as it happens. He doesn’t know yet - pretty thin-skinned about his looks, as you know … “

“Mmmm. I like these two very much, Barney. I might even invest in them, if you’re willing to sell?”

“Willing to sell! I should rather think I am – to you, Will. I know they’ll get a good home. Anyway – coffee! You want some?

“Yes – thank you.”

“Let’s adjourn to the kitchen, then. I live off the stuff! How’d you like it? I brew mine like tar, I’m afraid … and if you say that’s as bad as beta-blockers, I’ll thump you! This is NATURAL beans!”

“Alright, alright!” Will held both hands up, laughing, “I won’t say a word!”

Barney’s eyes grew suddenly intent, like a hound at stalk. He moved swiftly, and closed the distance between them to pin Will against the tiny bit of wall not covered in images of his personal battle against the Dark.

“You belong elsewhere; but you’re My Kind of person, Will Stanton!” he said breathlessly, “And you light up like the full moon when you laugh. Do say I can paint you!”

The artist’s flexible fingers found the underside of Will’s chin, tipped his face up, and cupped his jaw, as he lowered his head to catch Will’s mouth with his lips in a sweet, welcoming kiss.

Will’s senses leapt to meet Barney’s sure touch; but at the same time, his inner Old One came to alarmed attention…..

_The Wild magic! It was THIS – not stupid Geoff and Cherry – that roused me!_

The kiss was deepening. Barney’s questing tongue probed and teased, filling him with fresh, young sensations; and, Old One or no, Will found himself responding.


	5. Chapter 5

Barney was exhilarated. This was going to happen! It felt so right – like the conclusion of a long epic! And Will … Will was the link between him – his Self Now; and the long-gone inspiration of his wonderful great-uncle. But the logic of it was secondary to sensation and intuition … Wild Magic ….

He came up for air, and found Will Stanton’s eyes, enormous and confused, eating him up.

“Skip the coffee?” he suggested, tugging at Will’s hand, “And I’ll show you round the bedroom?”

“Barney, this isn’t …. “

“Not a good idea? Oh, nonsense, Will! You need to lighten up a bit. My main memory of you is that you acted much older than your age. Jane would’ve had you, if you’d noticed her, y’know; but I always suspected you weren’t the marrying kind. Not like Bran – in spite of what you’d hoped. Am I right?”

“No! Well – not quite. I noticed Bran – of course I did. And saw what you may have seen – a certain ambivalence alongside the extraordinary beauty. I knew about Jane, too, but … " Will paused, and Barney watched him searching for an acceptable form of words, “ … don’t you see, I have to keep a distance; an uninvolvement …”

“Oh Right! You were very _uninvolved_ a moment ago. You should get into that sort of _uninvolvement_ more often. It suits your looks.”

“Barney, don’t! It’s not that I .. it’s tempting, and … “

“And nothing! There’s no reason on earth why two human beings who fancy one another shouldn’t do whatever they please. Even Gumerry would have come out of the closet these days – if he even knew he was in it, of course!”

“You saw that in him? But you were only .. what? .. nine?”

“Not _really_ then,” admitted Barney, “But later, when I thought back. My memories are very patchy, of course; but I knew there was some mystery around him; something we sort-of knew-but-didn’t-know, if you see what I mean. Well, it had to be That, didn’t it? It was obvious once I got to puberty and realised that I was ….. Simon went and looked it up in one of his bloody medical tomes when I came out, y’know!”

Will, still standing loosely under Barney’s hands, laughed so hard that he almost slid from under his fingers and down the wall.

“S-Simon! Always so .. rigid and pompous … so by-the-rules. But saved, of course, by his sincerity, his sense of humour, and by the fact that he cares for us all, even though he’d never admit it. I do hope he’s happy!”

“Y-yes. Except he’s always grumbling about the long hours …..”

“He’ll be fine! Much more focused and clear than the rest of us.”

“I can be quite focused and clear too, when I know what I want, Will.”

Barney had remembered what they’d nearly been doing, and seen how Will was sliding gently out of it with his verbal digressions. He homed in again, and managed a quite respectable snog before Will’s shoulders stiffened, and he attempted to break the clinch.

“You do make things difficult, don’t you?” he sighed; and then – realising that ‘uninvolvement’ might imply virginity, added, “Aww, come on Will, let me show you the bedroom. It’ll be fine - promise!”

He took Will’s hand again, and pulled gently. Will came unstuck from the wall, sighed to himself, and allowed Barney to lead him out of the studio and down the tiny hallway.

“Here we are,” announced Barney breathlessly, “Look – I even made the bed this morning! Nothing but the best for my models … I do hope you’ll model for me, Will? I have SUCH an idea for you!”

“Is this seduction or Art?” murmured Will.

“Seduction! Art! Dreams! Magic! What’s the difference?” declared Barney deliriously, “Are you up for it, Will? All of it?”

Will pondered; then seemed to come to a decision.

“If it’s like that,” he mused, “Then – yes, Barney, I’m up for it. I can’t resist sex AND Art, Dreams and whatever else you said. But first .. erm … can I use your bathroom?”

“Human after all!” Barney chortled, “It’s through the little door over there.”

He waited until Will disappeared before undressing rapidly, casting himself on the bed in _The Rokeby Venus_ pose, and grabbing his Emergency Bedside Sketchbook.

He’d blocked out the basis of his Moon idea in soft pencil and black crayon before Will reappeared …..

****

Will returned cautiously. He’d given his word, and it wasn’t that he didn’t want this; but he felt uneasy, and was consequently wary.

He could make a good show of family life and camaraderie in the midst of his large array of siblings over Christmas; and retain his cool self-possession in the company of Jane, Bran and the family on visits to Wales. But in reality, the last of the Old Ones was crippled by loneliness.

He knew that this would have been the chink in his armour had the Dark still been active in this time; and was currently fretting at the idea that the Wild Magic would also – via Barney – identify his weakness.

He paused in the bedroom doorway. Barney was sprawled on the bed, totally nude, but immersed in his sketching. Will bit back a laugh. The artist had clearly meant his pose to be provocative; but had become so engrossed in what he was doing, he’d forgotten to maintain it.

Not that he needed to strike poses to be sexy; thought Will. Even with head bent over his pad, hair flopping untidily into his face; shoulder and arm muscles furiously tensed as his hand swept the paper, he was beautiful.

His hair - pale-blond on his head - deepened to a warm corn-colour when scattered on torso and groin. As he shifted in the beam of a powerful work-lamp set at the bedside, he shimmered with tiny stars, as individual strands on arm, chest, and upper thigh were caught in the light.

Will heard Barney laugh softly as he dropped a charcoal-stick onto the coverlet, picked up the pad and surveyed it at armslength. Simultaneously he himself felt a powerful tug in his diaphragm that impelled him forward.

He stumbled into the room, just as Barney raised his eyes beyond the narrow focus of the drawing, and looked straight at him.

It was as if an electric bulb had settled into its socket after a little eternity of blind fumbling around. Will inhaled sharply; and felt pure light flowing into his lungs.

Then Barney grinned. The light diffused through him, caressing him from inside and beyond; and caught him – expanded and erect – in its tideless flow.

“At LAST!” said Barney softly, “C’m’ere, Will. There’s nothing to worry about. We’ve known each other for .. ooh … feels like CENTURIES, almost. You need to lose a few clothes, y’know. Want any help?” he added hopefully.

“Yes,” said Will, “I think I do.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **RATING** : Beginning the NC17 run-up

Barney was going to take this delicately. He knew precisely (and in graphic detail) what he wanted; but was aware that this must proceed at Will’s pace.

He knelt up on the bed to help Will out of his tweed jacket and high necked shirt. Will was breathing unevenly, but his eyes kept straying to the sketch that Barney had put aside.

“You don’t like it?” murmured Barney, nuzzling at his throat and the exposed wings of his collarbone.

“Hrhmmm. This isn’t .. for me to like .. or not-like, B-Barn … It draws me!”

Barney paused in his exploration of Will’s bone-structure and snickered.

“Nah. It’s me that draws you! Shall we get rid of the rest of these clothes now?”

It took longer than expected to disentangle Will, but Barney (mentally hopping from foot to foot with impatience) managed it with a steady, artist’s hand. 

Will was compact and a little solid-looking; projecting an aura of muted brown. Barney suspected he’d cultivated that – like a mouse in the wainscot; unobtrusive, wary and always watchful.

At least he was visibly aroused, and breathing in gasps. Good signs!

Still kneeling up, Barney pulled Will flush against him. He could feel tight, dark nipples against his ribs; the softness of belly-flesh, and Will’s sheathed hardness, slightly below his own.

“Fist time?” he breathed into Will’s ear, and felt a light shake of unseen laughter.

“Not quite. First time that matters – shall we say?”

“Mmm! Well, that’s nice to know,” said Barney, his mind working furiously on a curiously exact fantasy of a sweaty, anonymous encounter in a Soho blind-alley, “Shall we start simple; and maybe do something really hot a bit later, when we’re better acquainted?”

“What - " for the first time, Will sounded almost flirtatious as his body relaxed into pliability, “Did you have in mind?”

Barney took them down sideways, to lie face-to-face.

“Let’s do something to please both of us,” he reared up and reversed, now lying flush against Will’s thighs, “Is this OK?” he asked, reaching delicately.

He felt Will’s body shake again with that unseen laughter, and caught a response, the sense of which came to him slowly.

_He goes straight to the lovers’ knot; the completed circle. A powerful tie! Should I …?_

Overriding any hesitancy, he pulled Will to him, taking him down with a fair amount of ease. There was a heartbeat’s pause before he felt Will’s hand on him, and his lips enclose him.

In trying to make it good for Will, Barney almost missed his own orgasm, which crept up on him quietly, and flashed by quickly. He made a muffled sound and lost rhythm; but Will climaxed anyway, in three long pulses and he groaned softly around Barney’s detumescence as he came.

Barney swallowed hard and fast; and then became aware of the delicate tremors that were coursing through Will’s body from head to foot. He reversed himself hastily.

“Will? OK, Will?”

“Unh … more than I bargained for, Barney. You’re .. a rich diet for an occasional practitioner like me!”

Barney chortled as he gathered Will into a loose, uncommitted cuddle.

“It’s an art-form like everything else, Will. Same sort of creativity. We can do some variations-on-a-theme soon, once you’ve recovered. You look pretty good – if I may say so – once you shucked that “brown” image with your clothes!”

“What do you mean?” asked Will quickly.

“Don’t give me the Innocence thing! You underplay yourself to the point of extinction. So – just letting you know I can see through that. You’re like a sparrow, Will Stanton – easily overlooked in a crowd, but full of subtle colour-tones if someone looks closely. Well – I’ve looked now, and I can see.”

For a moment, Will gave him his best blank stare. Then he offered a melancholy smile.

“We must see what can be done about that!” he said softly, decisively.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **RATING** : NC17

Will lay, loose and temporarily unstrung on Barney’s bed, listening to an inaccurate rendition of _The Floral Dance_ emanating from the bathroom.

For the moment Will the Old One was quiescent, and Will the man was at peace, fully accepting that he’d acquired Barney in his life.

It was sad but inevitable that Barney’s memories would have to be adjusted again. Far too much was coming through in the art; symbols and small magics that could easily attract any fragments of the Dark that lingered in the hearts and lineages of men.

Will hoped that the process would not damage too much of Barney’s prodigious talent; but he would have to risk that – for the Greater Good. It wasn’t, Will told himself sternly, as if Barney would remember enough to reproach him for it! He sighed, his heart and conscience caught up in regret. Nonetheless, these feelings didn’t matter. It had to be done!

“Hey, Will! I saved you something!”

“What is it?” Will propped himself up, smiling in spite of himself.

“Catch!”

Will ducked instead; and found the thin remainder of a lube-tube bouncing off his shoulder.

“I left you just enough, I think!”

“What’s this in aid of?”

“You and me, of course. Here – let me show you!”

Barney bounded back, following the exact trajectory of the lube-tube and landing adroitly astride Will, his renewed state of readiness obvious.

“Go again?” he suggested.

“I don’t know, Barney, I’m not … “

Will, who had been about to fling one hand wide, fingers splayed; found himself hampered by Barney’s torso and wandering hands.

“Not ready?” said Barney blithely, “Don’t worry, Will. Just relax and leave it to Uncle Barney, eh? This one’ll be special – promise!”

Well, there was no immediate rush, Will supposed as he prepared to succumb to Barney’s blandishments. And since Barney was at that moment engaged in slathering him in lube, he soon lost the ability to string two thoughts together.

* * * *

Barney had an exact and clear picture of what he wanted. He’d even drawn it once – a soft pencil-sketch of two indeterminate figures _in flagrante_.

Knowing Will to be relatively inexperienced, he’d taken a chance, and prepared himself whilst in the bathroom, expending most of the lube in the process.

Now he’d managed to stroke Will erect once more, using the remainder of the lube. He should lay in a supply, if things progressed satisfactorily.

Not that he could take anything for granted; not with Will Stanton, that second enigma from his childhood. Even now, as he hoisted himself up, scrambling a little for the correct entry-position, he paused.

“You OK with this, Will?”

“If you’re sure about it, Barney? I won’t damage you, will I?”

“Only if I do it wrong; and I won’t. Trust me!” grinned Barney, “I’ll go slow – take you in gradually. And you must tell me if you get any discomfort.”

Barney had an intense rush of sensation as he slowly lowered himself onto Will, allowing gravity to do the work as far as possible. Once Will was fully enclosed, the feeling of completion was so overwhelming that he almost climaxed instantly.

However, a liquid calm – like the aimless wash of the deep ocean – stole over him; and he found a rhythm like the surge of a gentle neap-tide which he knew would intensify gradually. In the meantime, he could watch Will Stanton’s face as he built to his own climax. That should be worth a sketch or two sometime later!

Absorbed as he was in Will’s wide-open eyes, the flowing heat that ascended Barney’s spinal column in a series of rapid leaps took him by surprise. It was like mercury in a thermometer; he thought wildly; inevitable, and quite beyond his own control.

The heat rose until it suffused his skull, bifurcated into twin streams, and pooled into points of intolerable pressure at his temples. From somewhere far below, he felt the gathering pulse that presages orgasm.

His eyelids flung open. Before his face, he could see nothing but an endless cascade of liquid diamonds.

Time stopped on his silent cry.

* * * *

Will had both hands on Barney’s slim hips, holding him lightly as he moved. The Old One in him was lost in a tumble and surge of sensation; a purely human experience, which he’d never thought to have. 

It held the crippling loneliness at bay; and in a rush of gratitude, Will stretched up to touch Barney’s face, run his palm down the column of his neck. Caress his shoulders and chest.

He could feel Barney’s breath, frantic in his throat; and the double-hoofbeat of his heart. He experienced Barney’s gasp as he tightened, and felt his own answering throb….

Too late, the Old One’s instinct for danger awoke.

He looked up in alarm, direct into Barney’s ecstasy. Barney’s head was thrown back, mouth wide and a deep belling sound shaking his belly and chest. Will beheld the red heat at his temples, from which budded two tiny spears of bone. They blossomed steadily in their soft velvet; branched, sloughed their covering, bled and branched again and again. Twelve times: twelve tines. A king-stag in the autumn-rut.

Barney’s mouth formed a perfect O; his eyes were fixed; and one pearl-drop trembled unsatisfied at the tip of his cock.

Time stopped.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **RATING** : NC17

The room dimmed, taking on the wavering beryl-tinted light of undersea. Will, caught conjoined beneath the Hunter-statue that Barney had become, could only endure, whilst a huge Presence compressed the watery space. From the Deeps Beyond (barely glimpsed infinitely far away), a great Voice spoke.

_You will not take his memories a third time Old One!_

“Lady Tethys! I mean no harm to him!”

_You are wrong, Old One. A third time will break his mind and take from him the only Magic intrinsic to his kind – the impulse to Make, and pour its brief soul into things of Earth._

“But Lady, this has already been done. The Painter of the Dark also wiped his memory as well as the Captain and Merriman; so it has been done three times - without any harm to him!”

_The Man of the Dark lacked the Old Ones’ skill; and therefore used only things of the Earth. The child was young, and therefore took no lasting hurt from the drink. A poor reflection on The High Magic that even a creature of the Dark was more tender of the boy’s soul!_

“But he has awoken a little of the Wild Magic which we thought had been commanded away by the Silver on the Tree!”

_What is that to ME, Old One? Wild Magic rises from Soil, Seas, and the Seasons of this spinning planet. It may not be willed away by Those Whose home is beyond it, though you and your Master considered it so!_

_Did you think that My fisher-folk would neglect their Greenwitch each Spring, even though the Silver had bloomed on the Tree one summer and, in a battle of which they had no knowledge, the Earth swept clean of the Dark?_

_No – that which is Of the Earth remains In the Earth; though all The Light has gone beyond._

“Lady, I beg you! As he is, Barney is living neither fully in the world of men, nor that of the Wild Magic. Surely, there must be a way …?”

_I say again – you May Not touch the child’s memory! You yourself, and your Master, delivered him into My Hand when you gifted Me his little image that told me ‘Men Do Not Forget the White Lady’. And so, in My Hand he remains; and as the seasons turn, he will find his place within the rites and passages in that liminal zone where humankind meets the rhythms of its Own Home!_

“So you will drag him more into your own world?

_He is an artist! There is no question of compulsion – he will come – has ALREADY come - willingly. And in token of that, the Wild Magic gives him a place! He will embody The Hunter when the times and seasons demand it of him. As you see._

“That’s too dangerous for a mortal …. “

_Then you, Old One, must stay at his side to watch and protect, as it has always been your duty to do. This is My gift to you – that you may in all honour accept the human love and companionship that he will surely offer, even in the ever-growing knowledge of what you are, Old One!_

“A gift!” replied Will wryly, “Of course: it is always so!”

Only an echoing silence answered him.

The ocean-light thinned.

Time began anew.

* * * *

Barney jerked as if a lightning-bolt had grounded down his spine; and found himself climaxing endlessly, like a waterfall. It was only somewhat later, once he’d collapsed forward onto Will, that he realised there had been very little mess…

…which was just as well; because it saved the usual intimate embarrassment of mopping up after oneself.

In contrast, Will’s climax had been delayed; and subdued. 

_Oh, Will!_ : thought Barney resignedly: _Understated as usual!_

“Was that OK?” he nonetheless asked anxiously.

“It had a certain – timeless quality!” responded Will with a slight, almost-ironic quirk to his lips.

“Well, mine was downright weird! Oh … in a good way, of course,” Barney curbed his usual gushing enthusiasm, and backtracked hastily, in case Will got offended, “I had a kind of whiteout – could only see something like a rain of diamonds ….. wonder if I could recreate that …. And – y’know – I had the oddest sensation in my forehead and temples … almost like …. Hmmmm …. "

Absently he reached for his pad; then realising he was still astride, apologised and retreated hastily to the loo, clutching paper and pencil

* * * *

Will sat up cautiously. The energy that had been radiating from Barney had been so overwhelming that it made him tired. Newly (and unknowingly) into his role as Hunter, Barney was channelling Wild Magic in its most exuberant and compellingly sexual form. Will considered the honeyed trap set by Tethys thoughtfully. At least he could walk into its maw, open-eyed.

_That’s more honest than what I planned –what MERRIMAN planned – for Barney and the others!_

That thought would not go away. It was part of the baited trap that was now easing closed on him, which relied on his sense of balance, of justice; and of course, his chance of a companion, a lover.

The trap closed, and Will, cradled in newly-awoken emotion and rocked gently by equilibrium-attained, closed his eyes in acceptance. He was asleep by the time Barney – clutching a pad covered in multiple, overlapping studies of antlers – reappeared.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. **WARNING** : Reference to a major canon character death.
> 
> 2\. HMS Galahad - a landing ship lost in Bluff Cove during the Falklands War. There's a reason why she might not be the ideal ship for this bit of plotline (most - but not all - casualties were in fact soldiers) ; but I couldn't resist the tragic symbolism of the name (and that - of course - is a massive clue as to the identity of the character-death).

Barney leaned forward and squinted, head to one side.

“Now that I KNOW they’re memories, they look quite different!” he said discontentedly, “I need to start over again! These are .. inadequate, somehow!”

He was seated cross-legged on the cold stone floor of the Woburn Institute’s impressive entrance hall, looking at the dismantled components of **Triptych** whilst awaiting the team of Slade School technicians who would help him hang the pictures in their new home.

Will, who was taking the opportunity of a closer look, grunted distractedly.

“Just do another!”

Barney groaned theatrically.

“I’ve got too many other ideas – look here! Give me your expert opinion on this, Old One!”

Will still winced at the form of address. Barney had started calling him that as a joke, after a discussion on relative ages; and had not desisted – even after the context was long forgotten.

Barney’s conversation these days was laced with this kind of almost-conscious meaningfulness. It kept Will on his toes!

Resignedly, he took the sketch that Barney was waving at him; and had to suppress an immediate recoil.

“A giant squid? Where did this come from?”

“The sea-vision when I fainted at the opening night. That light-cluster came first; then the beak; and finally all the trailly bits. What the hell can I do with it? I’ll have to try the Lovecraft mob – see if anyone’s republishing an illustrated _Cthulhu_ , and needs a cover-design!”

Will half-closed his eyes.

“No – leave it a while, Barney! Who knows – someone might take it into their head in a few years to incorporate a giant squid into a story as a joke! Or – let’s see – perhaps wait about a decade – maybe a bit longer - and they may even need something for an adventure movie with pirates and Davy Jones … hmmm ..?”

“A whole decade? I’ll be an Old One myself by then! Hey – I’d best go and find my cohort! We may already have it hung by lunchtime if we get a move on!” he cleared his throat, and added softly, “Thank you, Will. This feels absolutely right – not like the Mitothins at all. And the Unveiling – when we both do a presentation about Gumerry – that’ll be wonderful! I might even persuade Simon along, if he’s off-duty. I’m so GLAD that you and I …. “

He gulped to a halt, leaned forward and planted an exuberant kiss on Will’s mouth.

“Get along with you!” said Will, disengaging after a moment, “You’ll ruin my cool and carefully-nurtured aloof-image if anyone sees us, Barney!”

“Prude! As if they hadn’t guessed already! See you for lunch?”

“Alright. Come up to my office – got something to show you! My class ends at One.”

Barney blew an unrepentant kiss, and departed.

Left alone with the three detached parts of **Triptych** parked upright against the wall, Will sidled closer and squatted down with his nose next to one of the vignettes. He subjected it to a prolonged scrutiny, both with his outer and inner vision.

It was exactly as he’d suspected! He was in there too – a smaller figure flying from the headland behind the more eye-catching Merriman. And again, there he was in the boat too – a back-view this time. The third picture – with its single-minded homage to Merriman – presented more of a puzzle; until Will noticed a rough approximation of his own features hidden within the surrounding hawthorn branches.

There had been a Secondary Summons, cleverly (and probably unconsciously) hidden in plain sight. The Hand of Tethys … Barney really was a loose cannon …

HIS loose cannon now!

Will had to admit to the joyous leap of recognition that he shared each time Barney found a new memory coming to the surface. It had the effect of making Will stay focused; and – through Barney – he could now experience for himself those pockets of Wild Magic that Barney kept discovering.

* * * *

“It’s done – it’s done! You have to come down, Will, and see it!”

Barney was absolutely high on the thrill of it all; and couldn’t wait for Will’s reaction to the reassembled **Triptych**.

“All in good time!” replied Will in a tone that – in anyone else – might be described as arch, “Come in here a minute, Barney. There’s something ….. “

“What?” said Barney impatiently, “If it’s some old artefact, Will, I can just as easily see it later …..” he stopped on an audible gasp, “Oooh ….. what IS it, Will? It’s …”

He shot across the small office as if magnetised. His arm stretched itself out, fingers extended, until he was gently caressing the thing.

“It’s a Caribbean Carnival Mask!” Will was explaining, “Stephen sent it for my eleventh birthday. I’ve kept it, in memory – first of Stephen himself, and then of his last voyage on the HMS Galahad – all these years. But – I think it’s time it went to a new owner now.”

“What …?” Barney paused in his ecstatic fingertip exploration, “Oh! … oh no, Will! Not if it reminds you of Stephen! I couldn’t ….. “

He broke contact with the fascinating little sigil he’d just found carved on the forehead of the Mask, and stuffed his fists resolutely into the pockets of his tatty old anorak.

Will stepped forward, rummaged, and quietly removed Barney’s right hand from its concealment. He stroked its back from wrist to knuckle so attentively that Barney soon uncurled it, and let him take the hand unresistingly back to the Mask’s polished surface.

“It’s yours, love. Stephen would have wanted it to be enjoyed – to MEAN something – both in the giving and the receiving. He had that generosity of spirit. Take it .. and … I’m sure you’ll find a Use for it, Barney!”

Barney held back for a moment; and pulled him into a fierce embrace.

“For Stephen then!” he said into Will’s hair, “And also because … well … clever old Will! … I’ve been thinking about doing something in the plastic arts - Maskmaking - ever since we got together! It will be something new! And it seems .. the time’s right for it, somehow! And speaking of the right time – I’d like to go back to Trewissick again – maybe visit the APs – in time to see if there’s still a Greenwitch every spring! Shall you come too, Will? Do say you will!”

“Whoa! Whoa! You’re going too fast for this Old One, Barney! Let’s go and look at **Triptych** , eh? And then we can get the Mask back to your flat …. “

“Alright!”

Barney bounded forward – leaping eagerly into the Future; whilst Will followed in wry resignation – bringing the Past, and possibly also his timeless Present – with him.


End file.
